


You Can Still Call Me Casey

by TrinesRUs



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012)
Genre: Drabble, Fluffy overall though, Gen, Genderfluid Character, Homophobia, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-13
Updated: 2014-09-13
Packaged: 2018-02-17 04:39:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2296979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrinesRUs/pseuds/TrinesRUs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of Plan 10, Casey has a revelation about gender.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Can Still Call Me Casey

**Author's Note:**

> Pretty sure the writers just meant the line about liking being a girl to be a "lol Casey is a perv" moment, but I ran with it.
> 
> Gender is a complicated thing. This is mainly just how I see Casey conceptualizing his/her own gender-fluidity.
> 
> I've recently been reminded that even heroic characters can have prejudices. Somehow, it's just easier to imagine Leonardo homophobic and transphobic than it is for the others. *shrug*

            At first, Casey dismisses it as the lingering aftershocks of the body-switching experience. Having your brain switched into anyone else’s body has to leave _some_ kind of temporary side-effect. Then, he tells himself he just liked being able to touch the soft parts of a girl’s body. He’s a teenager with a libido; it makes sense.

            But neither of those answers sits comfortably with him. He can’t quite place what the exact problem is, but neither of them covers the whole issue. Besides, too much time has passed at a certain point to just blame it on readjusting to his old body.

            At the same time, he has to wonder something about what it means. ‘Cause, yeah, he liked being a girl, but he’s never exactly been uncomfortable being a guy, either. He is who he is: one big package of awesome. That doesn’t change with his gender.

            The thoughts follow him through school, tutoring, patrol, playing with his sister, and everything. He starts to wonder how anything would change if he were a girl. He wonders how everyone would react. Even when it dawns on him that he keeps calling himself “he” or “a boy” in his head, it doesn’t stop the questioning: he just makes himself imagine people calling him “her.”

            He finds that he can slip on either set of pronouns with equal ease.

            From there, it’s pretty easy to decide where to go. Casey has spent all this time wanting to know how others would treat him, and now he— _she_ —can test the waters. She starts small, just wearing a little lip-gloss when she goes to visit the Turtles.

            Raph is sitting on the couch, watching the TV with a neutral expression, when she gets to their lair. She jumps over the top of the couch and flops next to him with a casual, “Hey.”

            When he looks at her, he has to do a double-take. Casey can almost see the stutter in his brain as it tries to register what he’s looking at. She waits for an awkward, silent moment as her friend’s eyes dart around her face. Time stretches like a rubberband and holds, tension ready to snap and send things flying.

            “Are you wearing lip-gloss?” Raph asks incredulously.

            She plays it cool, tossing her head back. She nonchalantly replies, “Yeah, I am.”

            His eyes dwell on her for a little longer. Then, he shrugs and goes back to watching TV. Casey silently releases a deep sigh of relief. It almost seems silly to have doubted Raph’s support. Of course she would have it; this new side of Casey-freaking-Jones doesn’t change how much ninja-and-alien butt they can kick together. Still, as her best friend, Raph’s approval is more important than a lot of people’s.

            She joins the Turtles on patrol, but none of the others seem to notice. Whether it’s out of silent acceptance like with Raph or if they just don’t notice for the shadows and her mask, she can’t immediately tell.

            Whatever the case, she starts wearing the lip-gloss more often. Not every day, just on those days when being a “she” is more comfortable than being a “he.” And not around everyone; her dad finds it a touch harder to take than Raph does. Nothing too heavy, but things are eerily quiet when s/he gets home a few days there.

            One morning, when she’s heading out to school, her father pulls her into a hug before she leaves. “Be safe,” he whispers. Then, he lets her go. She isn’t quite sure whether to be touched or laugh because she’s never stayed safe before. It’s not in Casey Jones’ nature. But it’s still sweet that her father cares so much.

            She wears her makeup a little darker that day, and it turns heads. Not all of the attention is good, but as before, her gender and presentation don’t change how much butt she can kick. Someone looks at her funny in the hall, all she has to do is brandish her hockey stick and they back off. Her school is full of cowards anyway.

            What’s a bit harder to take is when Irma and April see her. Irma outright laughs. She tries to tell herself it’s just Irma and that it shouldn’t matter that much to her, but it doesn’t work. She and Irma have never liked each other and probably never will, but she’s still close enough to her circle to sting. April herself chuckles a little, and that leaves her _really_ sore.

            But a moment later, the redhead takes Casey gently by one arm while Irma takes the other, and they guide her to the bathroom. “Not bad, Jones, but peach isn’t your color. A more dramatic red or…hm, not lavender, but plum, maybe?”

            Relief washes over her, and she grins wide enough to expose the gap in her teeth. This more than makes up for those few seconds of pain. It’s always better to have friends on your side.

            Besides, April is right; red is more her color.

            The rest of the school day, there’s pride in her swagger, same as every day. The people whose opinions matter are all standing behind her. Anyone who doesn’t like her can just back off or get a puck to the jaw.

            So she keeps telling herself until hockey practice. She goes in thinking things will be fine. She’s the most skilled player on the team. So what if she has a little paint on her face now? Doesn’t make her any worse at the sport, and it doesn’t make her teammates any better.

            Coach doesn’t feel the same. The moment he sees her, he flips his lid. “Jones, _what_ in the _hell_ are you wearing?”

            “Jersey and skates, as always,” she says, deadpan, but she knows at once what he means.

            “Real funny, Jones,” he growls. “Now, get that crap off of your face.”

            “Why? Don’t think a little color is gonna wreck my game.” She tries to channel the power of a tiger crouching, ready to spring, despite the worms wriggling in her stomach.

            Most of the time, Coach just wearily shakes his head at her when she talks back. Today, red anger rushes to his cheeks. “You won’t _have_ a game if you don’t wipe that shit off! You’re on _my_ team, and my team won’t accept any fa—”

            Casey jams her hockey stick right up against the coach’s throat. “Finish that word; I dare you.” Coach could have paled and she wouldn’t know ‘cause all she sees is red. Her lips are pulled into a fearsome snarl that would have better men wetting themselves.

            Hands are suddenly all over her, hauling her away. “Case, what the hell, man?”

            “Yeah, Case. You can’t attack Coach like that.”

            “And he’s right, anyway. You look totally qu—”

            Any chance of her calming down soon is thrown out by those words. Before her teammates can even finish speaking, she’s smacking their ankles and faces and kneecaps for all she’s worth. More tackle her, probably thinking they can get her to stop, but she’s faced so much stronger than them.

            The assault doesn’t stop until Coach shrieks, “You’re off the team, Jones!”

            She glares at him long and hard, ex-teammates still tugging on her jersey the whole time. She’s half-tempted to slam her hockey stick down. She grips it harder instead. Her fist trembles. “Fine by me.”

            Casey jerks herself away from her former team and leaves. Just as the doors swing behind her, she thinks she can hear the coach shouting something about straightening herself out. She rolls her eyes and keeps walking without looking back. Let’s see how they’ll do without their star player. She doesn’t give them more than five minutes in their next match.

            She ends up texting April to meet her at the lair later and heading on down to the sewer alone. Raphael is a little surprised to see her early, but he seethes when she tells him the deets. They chat about methods of retribution that will never actually be put to use, but it’s a fun way to vent. For the pent up energy the canceled practice left, they decide to spar.

            “So…” Raph starts, slightly uncertain, as he just barely dodges a kick. “Is there something I ought to call you? I mean, like a special name you prefer, or…?”

            She blocks a punch and throws one of her own. “You can still call me Casey,” she assures. Almost as soon as she wrestles the sai out of Raph’s armed hand, she gets a punch to the stomach. Still, she manages to land a solid kick on plastron just afterwards. “Thanks for asking,” she adds a little more quietly.

            “No problem.” She slaps away an attempt at a headlock as he speaks. “You’re my best friend no matter what, you meathead.”

            “You calling me meathead, shell-butt?”

            “Shell-butt? Is that the best you got, Casey Jerk?”

            “Oo, never heard that one before, algae-breath.”

            They go on like that while they continue to fight, laughing the whole time. This isn’t like with the hockey team. Their words were legit meant to hurt, and they did. Here, they’re just two buddies joking around and hitting each other for fun.

            The door slides open. They finally break apart at the entrance of others and come up laughing. A gasp from the entryway draws their attention.

            Mikey is the first to rush at them, joy evident on his face. “Dude, you look awesome,” he tells Casey. “I didn’t think dudes wore make-up, and on that one Purple Dragon guy I can see why, but you rock it.”

            “Not a dude,” Raphael cuts in before she can respond. On some level, she’s grateful, but there’s also a twinge of annoyance. She can speak for herself, thank-you-very-much.

            The youngest brother looks stunned for a moment. When he turns his attention back on her, she falters a moment before babbling, “Well, not every day, at least. Sometimes I just like being a girl more, and some days I still feel like a guy.”

            Michelangelo seems to accept all of this pretty easily. “Well, you’re a really pretty lady today, then.”

            She grins. Well, it must have been the “didn’t notice” option all the times before, but at least she knows the guys are behind her. She turns her smile on Leonardo and Donatello—

            And the expression promptly drops from her face. Opposed to Raphael’s and Michelangelo’s easy acceptance, the other two brothers look a lot less welcoming to the news. Donatello is leaning heavily on his Bō and shooting her a slightly guarded look. Worse was Leonardo’s reaction. He looked outright disturbed and uncomfortable with the revelation.

            Her expression shifts to a glare. Donnie at least has the decency to look ashamed.

            Michelangelo appears to sense the atmosphere and tugs her out of the room. “Come on, Case, let’s go play video games.” She follows him, but not without matching dirty looks with Leonardo as they pass by him.

            Splinter seems to respect her identity easily enough. No mess; no fuss. There is still that moment of panic for her and rats, but she’s been getting so good at ignoring it when Splinter’s the one to set it off, so there’s still something sweet in the way it reaches her.

            She and Mikey get through about eight rounds of their game before the whole team heads out for patrol. Leonardo refuses to look at her. Raphael refuses to look at Leonardo. Donatello hangs his head, not really willing to look at anyone. April rolls her eyes at all three of them.

            By now, it comes as absolutely no surprise when they find the Kraang out doing Kraangy things with portals and mutagen. It’s no surprise when they accidentally draw the Kraang’s attention and earn a round or seven of laser-fire from them. It’s not even a surprise when they bring in the butt-cannons.

            It _is_ a bit of a surprise when one of the Kraang turns to her and says, “The one who is human who is known as Casey Jones is what is called very pretty.” Less surprising when he adds, “The one who is known as Casey Jones must still be eliminated from this place.”

            “I don’t think so!” she yells, smashing the Kraangdroid’s head right off. She sets eyes on her next target and lets off an explosive puck.

            All-in-all, it’s a surprisingly easy night. The fact that it _is_ so easy may be a warning of worse things to come, or it may just honestly be that simple. Either way, she’s feeling great after a chance to bust some robot.

            The next few days are spent away from the lair for time with her/his little sister while she needs help preparing for a school play and their father is busy. When Casey next returns to the base, it’s as a guy. Leonardo seems mostly relieved, but still a little on-edge. He feels a little anger bubble in his stomach at that, but he’s not going to start a fight yet.

            Michelangelo has more than a few questions for him. Raphael hastily tries to get him to stop, but Casey shrugs him off. “I can take care of myself, Raph. Besides, I don’t mind. He’s just trying to understand.”

            Raph snorts. “Yeah, good luck getting _him_ to. Acceptance, sure, but understanding?”

            “Hey, I’m not _that_ dumb,” Mikey protests.

            He answers as many of Mikey’s questions as he feels comfortable doing. Thankfully, the two of them seem to limit themselves to the same small words, so communicating ideas between them is pretty easy. Raphael still looks like he’s hanging on edge to interrupt if something goes wrong through most of the conversation, though. He tries to ignore it and mostly succeeds.

            What really bothers him, however, is when the other two brothers enter the room. Donatello keeps scurrying through, eyes averted, like he’s afraid he’ll catch some kind of virus from them if he stays in the room too long. He’s just a mild irritation, though. Leonardo manages to make the whole room feel tense just by standing in the general area.

            One of these days, Casey _is_ going to punch him.

            “Do you have any more pizza omelet? I’m gettin’ kinda hungry,” says Casey. Mainly, he’s trying to stop the questions since Leo’s being a prick, but he’s honestly a little hungry, too.

            When Mikey excuses himself from the room and Leonardo heads to the dojo, Raphael tugs on his sleeve. “Just one thing I think we need to agree on, Jones: no skirts; no dresses.”

            The comment makes him wince. He thought his best friend understood. Raph doesn’t get to dictate gender expression for him.

            Before Casey can get a word out, though, Raph adds, “It’s not practical for missions. Save the loose stuff for when there’s _not_ a risk of it catching on something.”

            Relief washes down his shoulders, and he laughs. “Can’t promise that, but I _can_ promise I’ll bring a change of shorts. I think I have a use for a skirt.”

            Sure enough, within the next week, Casey sashays into the lair wearing a black skirt patterned with skulls. Raph wolf-whistles encouragingly. Casey replies with a mock-bashful smile and a twirl. April tells her she looks pretty.

            “Whatcha all dressed up for?” Mikey asks around a handful of popcorn. He had been fully-engrossed in a monster movie before all the noise drew him out of it.

            “It’s nice to feel pretty once in a while, and I got a lesson to teach. Donnie in his lab?”

            Donnie doesn’t even look up when she comes in. This isn’t uncommon; he’s often too focused on his work to notice, or he notices and just doesn’t care to stop unless someone interrupts first. Or if April walks in, but she’s a special case.

            (It kind of makes Casey feel sick just thinking about it.)

            But since she’s not April, she has to find her own way to cut in. In true Casey Jones fashion, she knocks several books off his desk and sits right on the vacated spot. Immediately, Donatello’s head snaps up. “Hey, what do you think—?”

            Casey can practically see the gears in his head stuttering to a halt. He obviously wasn’t expecting her, especially not sitting on his desk like this. She crosses her legs—taking note of the way his eyes flick over her legs before darting back to her eyes—and bats her eyelashes teasingly. “Enjoying the view?”

            Donatello looks sharply away. “What are _you_ doing here, Casey?”

            “Just coming to give you a piece of my mind. I thought we were friends, dude. What, now that I wear dresses and makeup sometimes, that suddenly changes everything? You know, it’s kinda messed up when the _Kraang_ accept me for who I am easier than my own friend does.”

            She expects ol’ gap-tooth to shout back. Arguing, even when they’re working together, is just part of how they are. Instead, he just sort of…deflates. He lets out a sigh and sags his shoulders. He rubs his eyes wearily.

            “I know, Casey,” he says quietly. “I’m working on it. This isn’t easy for me. It throws a handful of variables into an equation I thought I had all figured out. While this shouldn’t affect our friendship, it does affect the way people react to you in and out of battle. It’s new situations to account for. I won’t lie and say I’m not uncomfortable, because this whole thing about your gender…It doesn’t make sense scientifically, but I’m working through it.”

            “And you can’t work faster? Is working together comfortably really not worth that much?”

            “Carefully accounting for variables and slow work now is better than a catastrophic miscalculation later,” he reasons.

            She draws her lips into a thin line. It’s not a great answer; she doesn’t like it, but she’ll take it. Reluctantly. And Donnie better hope he makes those calculations sooner than it sounds like he thinks he will.

            Over time, she does see him getting a little more comfortable around her. It comes in small increments, building gradually, but at least he stops scurrying about. Eventually, they go back to having heated debates about plot points on some awful movie like nothing had even changed.

            Of course, Leo has to come in and ruin it. Everyone but their leader and Splinter have gathered around the TV and are having a good time until he steps into the room. “So we’re all going to pretend it isn’t weird, are we?” he asks, an edge sharp as one of his katana to his tone. “Like there’s absolutely nothing wrong with it?”

            “What are you talking about, Leo?” asks Donnie, purposefully obtuse. “This movie has almost nothing _but_ flaws. That’s what we’re saying.”

            “Haha. You know that’s not what I mean.”

            “Hm, yeah, I see what you mean,” Raphael says. “Your entire personality could use an overhaul, Leo-nerd-o. Let’s start with your obnoxious butting into everyone else’s business.”

            “Funny, Raph. So, no one’s bothered by the fact that Casey is—”

            “Casey is _what_ , Leo?” April’s eyes are burning with the passion and determination that makes her a great kunoichi. It almost makes Casey sweat just looking at her.

          “He’s _not natural_ ,” he hisses at last. “His spirit is obviously misaligned. Does no one but me understand that?”

            “Hm, funny,” says April, holding a hand to her head. “I think that if her spirit was misaligned, Splinter or I would’ve sensed it. My powers are giving me nothing.”

            Mikey suddenly stands up. “I’m dating Leatherhead. Does that make _my_ spirit misaligned, too, Leo? Or do I have to start wearing skirts first?”

            “One time, I went on a date with Karai,” adds April. “Is _my_ spirit misaligned?”

            Casey Jones doesn’t need anyone standing up for her. She’s said that from the beginning. But seeing the way Leo’s normally-stoic face contorts with each sentence is worth having others come to her aid.

            Raph smirks before joining in the fun. “I thought Newtralizer was kind of hot-in-an-evil-way and could see why Spike was so into him. Does that make _my_ spirit misaligned?”

            “Irma and I used to practice kissing with each other. Darn, my spirit must be _so_ misaligned,” April says, feigning a sigh.

            Through most of this, Donatello remains silent. After several minutes, though, he leans over the couch and says, “Sometimes I think I should just date Casey and April both. Seeing Casey sitting on my desk a while back made things more difficult. It appears that my spirit must be misaligned, too. Imagine that.”

            They all fall over laughing as Leonardo stumbles out of the room. “Ah, he’ll get over himself eventually,” Raph says when they calm down. “And we can punch him if he doesn’t.”

            “Speakin’ my language fluently,” Casey says. She sets her eyes back on the movie and pretends to be completely focused on it for a while. Then, without glancing from the screen or changing her expression, she asks, “Did you really mean that thing about dating, Donnie?”

            In her periphery, she can see his green face turn beet red. “One thing at a time, Jones.”


End file.
